


wind sprints

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [19]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The list of the guys who were invited to the Team USA training camp gets put online, and David doesn’t look at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wind sprints

David has managed to keep himself busy, distracted enough that he can almost ignore the deadline that’s ticking in him, the day that comes and goes without a phone call, that leaves him feeling cold.

It’s an Olympic year, and David isn’t surprised that he doesn’t get an invitation to training camp, but it still stings. Kurmazov gets one, no surprise there, and David isn’t bitter about it, because Kurmazov deserves it, and it was a foregone conclusion -- he’s already played for Russia twice, and playing _in_ Russia obviously means a lot to him. Kurmazov doesn’t get smug, but he’s quietly happy about it in a way that means David’s quietly happy for him, he supposes.

The list of the guys who were invited to the Team USA training camp gets put online, and David doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t want to know. It isn’t Jake who confirms, despite the fact they’re still texting, which is a point in favour of the fact that he’s smarter than he acts, but there’s no real way to avoid the news, and he gets a text from Eisler, well meaning, he’s sure, saying _boo ur way btr then lords_ , which is confirmation of what David didn’t want to know. Jake got invited to the camp, and if he makes it through — and David knows he will, he may as well accept it now — he’ll be in the Olympics while David sits around during weeks off he didn’t want or ask for.

There’s really only one thing for it. David sends _Congratulations_ belatedly. Since he’s not petty, he doesn’t mention the relative depths of talent for each country. Again, if Jake’s smarter than he acts, he knows that already. 

Kurmazov’s getting ready to pack up and go to Russia, now for training as well, and Vladislav takes him aside after training. “I have another guy,” Vladislav says. “I promised he would have me July.”

“Oh,” David says. “I -- I can find someone else.”

He doesn’t want to. Vladislav knows his limits, knew them going in and knows them even better now, and he seems to have perfected riding David right to the edge of them but not pushing him over far enough that he’s too sore to keep going the next day. He doesn’t go easy on him, either, like some of the other trainers David has had, either because they didn’t want to be responsible for pushing him too hard, or because they genuinely thought that was the most David could take.

Vladislav shakes his head. “If you don’t mind sharing, he doesn’t.”

David shared just fine with Kurmazov, but he supposes that’s a little different. 

“He plays like you,” Vladislav says. “Not as good, but your style.”

Which means that, unlike with Kurmazov, the training will probably be exactly what David needs to improve 100% of the time.

“I don’t mind, then,” David says. Vladislav is very good at his job, and David isn’t selfish enough to demand him all for himself. It’s nice to have someone to work beside, anyway, makes you push yourself harder in competition with them and not just against yourself. David doesn’t know who he’ll be training with, but he doesn’t think it’s arrogant to assume he’ll probably be better, not just because Vladislav said so, but because he’s been training half the summer with him already, and he knows how to push himself for him. 

Canada Day comes and goes quietly. It’s an off-day, something that doesn’t make sense from a scheduling standpoint, which makes David think Vladislav was trying to be nice, but if so it’s unnecessary. Maybe his new guy won’t be ready until tomorrow. That seems more logical. 

David gets a notification about the hockey camp in Toronto, which is apparently still happening, and is confirmation that Dave didn’t mention it to him, and probably not to Jake either. He’s not mad about it. Dave tends to know what’s best for his career, and working with Vladislav for the summer’s better than the loose collection of the camp. No distractions either. 

When David comes in on July second Vladislav’s with someone who looks maybe a few years older than David. He also looks vaguely familiar, but David had figured that whoever Vladislav was training was also in the NHL, so it makes sense for him to.

“David Chapman, Kirill Volkov,” Vladislav says. “I’m sure you know of each other.”

Volkov’s with the Penguins. An average player on a great team, so he’s down on the fourth line, though if he was playing with someone else he’d be third line, maybe even second on a team like the Islanders.

“Is it okay if I call you Volkov?” David asks after a quick handshake. Kurmazov has spent the last few months telling David to call him Oleg every time he said ‘Kurmazov’ out loud, to the point where David just gave up and started doing it, and Vladislav flat out laughed at David’s careful pronunciation of his surname. David hasn’t used it since. 

“Okay if I call you Chapman?” Volkov asks him, his mouth is tipped up like maybe he’s making fun of David.

“Of course,” David says.

“You’re both idiots,” Vladislav mutters, then says something in Russian that Volkov laughs at.

“What’d he say?” David asks once Vladislav’s wandered off after telling them to be ready in ten. Kurmazov and Vladislav spoke plenty of Russian around him, and it never bothered him, just seemed like the language they were most comfortable with, the way David and some of the Maritimer Remparts spoke English, but that felt more like the way, upon hearing David say his French was fine, some of the Francophone Remparts would speak quick, incomprehensible Quebecois at him, and then smirk when he got visibly lost. 

“He said you are the oldest twenty-one he has ever met,” Volkov says. Maybe it wasn’t meant as a compliment, but it doesn’t really seem like an insult either, and it’s something Vladislav has said to his face before. David relaxes. “He as hard as they say?”

“Harder,” David says. It’s why he likes him so much.

“Great,” Volkov says, rolling his eyes, but if he didn’t want hard work, he wouldn’t be here. At least, David hopes not. Otherwise he’s just wasting everyone’s time.

He doesn’t seem to be, doesn’t complain the way Kurmazov does, and David wants to, when Vladislav starts them on lifts after a short warm-up. If David might have thought Vladislav would go easy on him because it’s his first day — and he didn’t, because Vladislav didn’t exactly go easy on him his first day — he seems to go in the opposite direction, testing Volkov’s level of fitness, probably, which seems to be pretty good, since he’s still standing at the end of the day. 

“Do you want to get a drink?” Volkov asks him when Vladislav lets them go. “Could use one.”

Since they’re going to be spending the month training together, it’s probably a good idea, but they have another early day tomorrow, and David just wants to go home and maybe watch a movie. “Maybe before the next off-day?” David asks. He honestly has no idea how Volkov has the energy, since Vladislav didn’t go easy on him. The first day of training David barely had the energy to make himself dinner after he got home, let alone go out after. 

Maybe he’s better at this than David would have thought. Or maybe he’s just someone like Benson, who’s up for going out no matter what. David hopes not, or that if he is he doesn’t insist on inviting David every time. There were a few days in Toronto he went into camp drained and uninterested in working because he’d been up late the night before, and it was an unprofessional waste of an opportunity.

“Sure,” Volkov says. “You can show me where is good.”

David knows his share of local places, but he isn’t sure whether he’d define any of them as _good_ , necessarily, just the places the Islanders end up at. He might text Kurmazov, later, ask where actually is good, because Kurmazov’s not much of a drinker either, but he probably has a better idea of what kind of place to go when you’re not in a group of a dozen or more. He tries to do the math of what time it is in Russia, before realising that if he texts while Kurmazov’s asleep, it’s not going to disturb him. 

He texts him in the cab on the way home, and by the time he’s started dinner Kurmazov’s replied. David does the mental math to Moscow, and it’s past midnight, but then, he does have an infant. 

Kurmazov lists a couple places, then, in a following text, simply writes, _date?_

_NO_ , David writes back, even presses shift to make sure the O is capitalised.

_;)_ , is Kurmazov’s response. David stares at it, dumbfounded. Kurmazov shouldn’t even know that emoticon. He knows it’s ridiculous and that Kurmazov’s barely a decade older than him, but the man has three daughters. It’s just weird, like the time his grandmother saw a Hugh MacLennan book in his bag and asked him if they were still teaching that “trite bullshit.” He’d told his father what she said when he returned home, and all his father had said was “sounds like her”, but she’d never spoken like that around David. Not that the word ‘bullshit’ hasn’t left Kurmazov’s mouth, and many worse words besides, and profanity hardly bothers David, but it’s still the same feeling, seeing the dumb winking face David usually associates with texts from Jake. Kurmazov’s always seemed too serious for that sort of thing, but apparently he isn’t, at least over text.

_I’m taking Volkov out_ , David types.

_;) ;)_ , Kurmazov sends back, and David doesn’t know if he’s mortified on Kurmazov’s behalf or his own, but either way he’s mortified.

David types out a response, then hesitates over it. It’s always hard to know if someone’s making a joke through text, but Kurmazov’s being friendly and he doesn’t want to just ignore him. _I’m disowning you as captain_ , he sends, finally, chewing on his lip until he realises he’s doing it and makes himself stop.

_You never had it so good,_ Kurmazov replies, and David’s startled into a laugh and a belated realisation.

_Are you drunk?_ David texts. Kurmazov doesn’t seem any different when drinking, but then, he never drinks too much. More than David does, but David knows his tolerance is terrible.

_Be good to my countrymen_ , Kurmazov sends back. David thinks that might be a yes. How his spelling is intact when drunk while Jake’s is almost incomprehensible sober, David does not know. 

_Will do,_ David sends, getting a smiley in return — thankfully not another wink, at least — and finds himself smiling all through dinner.


End file.
